


All I'm Taking Is Your Time

by whispered_story



Category: Eyewitness (US TV)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sick Philip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-15 01:34:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9213434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whispered_story/pseuds/whispered_story
Summary: Philip tries his best to ignore the fact that he's sick. Lukas steps in.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [oddishly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddishly/gifts).



> Beta'd by [dancing_adrift](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancing_adrift) and [non_tiembo_mala](https://archiveofourown.org/users/non_tiembo_mala/) ♥
> 
> Title taken from Kris Kristofferson's "Help Me Make It Through the Night".
> 
> Written for [oddishly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddishly/pseuds/oddishly), who wanted a Philkas sick fic.

When Philip feels the first hints of unease, he ignores it. 

He pushes aside the slight nausea he feels at the sight of the plate of pancakes Gabe sets in front of him and eats a few bites anyway. Tells himself the pounding in his head is just due to a lack of sleep. Which is normal, because Philip rarely ever gets a good night's sleep these days, so the headache is nothing to worry about.

It's definitely not because he's sick.

Philip doesn't get sick. He could never afford to, because he had to take care of his mother and make sure nobody ever thought something was wrong at home, wrong with him, so they wouldn't call social services. When he was younger, six or seven maybe, social services took away their neighbor's daughter and Philip had spent the next few years terrified it would happen to him, at least until he got older and learned to put up a front and lie through his teeth. He became particularly good at lying about his well-being.

Sometimes Philip thinks there are no words he's uttered as often as _I'm fine_.

Today, though, it's not even a lie. Philip has felt a lot worse, been through a lot worse, and if not feeling at the top of his game – whatever the hell that is – for a day is his only worry, then things are pretty damn good in Philip's book. And he really doesn't want people to fuss about him.

He's never really done well with people trying to take care of him. Not that many _have_ tried. Most of his life, Philip has been the one doing all the caretaking. He likes it that way. He _knows_ how to be that guy. He doesn't, however, know how to let others do that for him, to be taken care of and not be expected to give anything in return.

Unfortunately for him, Lukas is starting to become really good at reading him. He's barely out the door that morning, making his way over to where Lukas is waiting for him on his bike, before Lukas asks him if he's doing okay.

"Fine," Philip mutters, and turns his head a little so Lukas' kiss lands on his cheek. He brushes his lips against Lukas' cheek too, lets his hand linger on Lukas' arm, hoping to divert his attention enough so Lukas won't notice the lack of a real kiss. 

Philip isn't sick, but he doesn't want to take his chances and have Lukas catch whatever it is he definitely doesn't have anyway.

By lunchtime, though, Lukas seems to start to run out of patience. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asks as they sit down together.

Philip subtly rubs his temple and shrugs. "Just... didn't sleep well last night," he says. It's not a lie, he tells himself. He didn't sleep well. Which is why his head is hurting and his stomach is feeling all weird because of the constant headache. That's it. Definitely.

Lukas leans forward, a frown tugging at his lips. "Nightmare?" he asks, voice soft. Like it's a secret between them. In a way it is, because they don't really talk to anyone about their nightmares – how can they? Nobody would understand what it's like to witness three murders and live in fear the way they have, and what it has done to them.

Philip shrugs and looks down at his untouched lunch. He isn't quite sure he didn’t have a nightmare. He'd tossed and turned all night, always on the verge of sleep, his mind a cluster of thoughts and dreams, before he was ripped awake again. "Just didn't sleep well," he says and pushes his tray of food away.

Lukas studies him, face serious and concerned. "We can get out of here," he offers.

Philip wants to. He wants to so bad. Just go home, curl up with Lukas, maybe hide out in the barn for a few hours. It's become his favorite place, somewhere he goes when he feels the need to get away and make everything else fade away. When they're there, curled up together among bales of hay, it almost feels like the rest of the world doesn't exist.

But he shakes his head anyway, trying to ignore the way it makes pain shoot up his temples.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but we've probably missed enough school."

Lukas cracks a small smile. "Okay," he says.

But he doesn't drop the issue, not completely. Instead, he keeps throwing glances at Philip for the rest of the day, sticks close to his side whenever he can, and keeps asking Philip how he's doing. Philip can practically feel the worry in him rising, and by the time the last class of the day ends he's feeling too drained to pretend he's totally okay. 

"I need a nap," he mutters when Lukas leads him to his bike, an arm around Philip's shoulders.

"You need a doctor," Lukas points out, his snort not quite amused. 

Philip rolls his eyes and it makes his head hurt even more, stomach twisting. "I'm just exhausted," he replies. "I'll get some sleep and I'll be as good as new."

"If you say so," Lukas says, but he doesn't sound convinced.

On the bike, Philip curls his arms tightly around Lukas' waist, settles his head on Lukas' shoulder and wishes he didn't have to wear a helmet so he could be closer, feel Lukas. He can't wait to be home, to shut the world around them out.

They don't make it very far before the nausea ramps up, Philip's stomach rolling as bile rises in his throat. He tries not to startle Lukas too much, to put them in danger, as he tugs at Lukas, trying to convey to him that something is wrong.

Lukas stops at the side of the road and Philip all but tumbles off the bike. He barely manages to get the helmet off before he's doubled over, retching. There's not a lot to throw up; he's barely eaten anything and hasn't had more than a few sips of water. His stomach doesn't seem to care, and he heaves, spitting bile and saliva onto the dusty ground near his boots.

"Shit. Philip!" He hears Lukas call out after him, and he wishes he had the strength to wave him off, to tell him he's okay. Fine. _Fine._ But his stomach is twisting painfully and he's dry heaving onto the ground, knees wobbling. Lukas' arms come around him, holding him up. 

"Breathe," Lukas murmurs. "It's okay. It's okay, Philip. Just breathe, okay?"

Philip nods, trying to catch his breath and keep the nausea at bay. His breathing is ragged, wet, the sounds harsh and painful. 

"You're not sick, huh?" Lukas asks, and Philip would hate him a little if the way he's running his hand slowly up and down Philip's arm didn't feel so soothing, if the press of his body against his wasn't the only thing holding him up.

+

Somehow, miraculously, they make it home without too much trouble once Philip's stomach has settled down a little. Lukas drives slowly, carefully, and Philip is slumped against him, holding on to Lukas' body taking a lot more effort than he's used to.

He's shivering when they get to Helen and Gabe's, and Lukas actually has to help him inside, a supporting arm curled around Philip's waist.

"You'll feel better in a little bit," he says softly, encouragingly, as he steers Philip up the porch stairs and into the house. "Just need to get you inside and you can lie down, okay?"

"Y-yeah," Philip says. It comes out weak and Philip hates it. He hates feeling like this, like neither his body nor his head are functioning correctly right now.

Lukas is patient with him though, guiding him and making sure Philip makes it inside and upstairs safely. He helps Philip undress down to his underwear and t-shirt and then all but tucks him in.

Philip feels a lot better – relieved – the moment his head hits the pillow. The sheets are cold, but he knows they'll warm up soon and it feels so good to not be on his feet anymore. He hadn't realized how much he's been aching – how heavy his limbs have felt – until now.

"You should probably take something," Lukas says, and Philip is grateful for the way he's keeping his voice quiet. "You know if Helen and Gabe have anything you could take?"

"Don't know," Philip mumbles and rolls carefully onto his side. It's not something that's ever really come up. Philip doesn't get sick a lot and even when he does, he usually prefers not to take anything if it can be avoided. He hates the sight of pills, no matter what kind.

The bed dips as Lukas sits down on the mattress and he cards his fingers through Philip's hair.

"How about some tea then?" he asks.

Philip squints up at him. "Really? Tea?"

Lukas gives a soft laugh, looking a little sheepish. "It's what people make whenever someone is sick on TV," he says. Philip isn't sure whether to tease or hug him, but in the end he's too exhausted for either option. And tea does sound kind of nice.

"'kay," he says. 

Lukas smiles and kisses Philip's forehead before getting up. Philip is kind of surprised by how seeing him leave makes his chest actually ache a little. Lukas isn't going far, just downstairs, but Philip wants to drag him back into the room, to have him stay right by his side the whole time.

And goddamn it, he really _is_ sick. Not the 'I have the sniffles and feel kinda bad' kind of sick, but the 'everything hurts and my boyfriend leaving the room makes me want to cry' kind and he's never felt more pathetic in his life.

He turns his face into the pillow and is kind of glad Lukas isn't there to witness this. And Lukas probably wouldn't even mind, would somehow think this is _cute_. He's been taking care of Philip a lot lately, being there to talk and soothe and sometimes just to hold Philip's hand. There's something about Lukas that cracks him open, brings everything he's always buried so far down to the surface, and makes him want to be brave and weak all at the same time. The former, he's used to; the latter is something new. Something Philip is still getting used to. Letting someone see all the broken pieces of him, the pain he's been trying desperately not to feel for years because he had to be strong. And now Lukas is unraveling him, slowly, carefully, laying bare Philip's innermost feelings bit by bit, and making Philip realize that he's not as strong as he thought he was. And that it's okay. It's okay to grieve and cry and scream. 

And, apparently, to be sick.

+

Maybe TV shows aren't lying, because the tea really is nice. Philip can't stomach more than a few sips before his stomach starts feeling queasy, but that's enough to make him feel warmer, better.

Lukas' proud smile – as if making tea for Philip is the greatest thing he's ever done in his life – makes Philip feel a little better, too. Especially when Lukas strips down to his t-shirt and crawls into bed with him.

Philip shuffles closer and Lukas pulls him into his arms, Philip's head coming to rest on his shoulder, nose pressed into the crook of his neck. The familiar scent feels like a soft, warm blanket, settling over him. Lukas always smells nice – fresh air and clean sweat, and that stupid men's shampoo that Philip wants to laugh at but can’t because it actually smells really good. He loves being this close, being able to breathe Lukas in and burrow so close he can almost imagine what it must be like to crawl inside Lukas' body and never leave that place, that person who makes him feel so at peace. Makes him feel good, even now, when his head feels like it might explode.

"Get some sleep," Lukas murmurs. 

Philip wants to protest, wants to stay awake and enjoy being in Lukas' arms, being held like this. But his eyes are already closed and drifting off makes his head feel a little less awful, and finally he welcomes sleep.

+

The creak of the floorboards wakes Philip up. He blinks, his eyes feeling gritty. He lifts his head off Lukas' chest, the dull throb in his temples still there, but a little less insistent now.

He squints and finds Helen standing in the doorway. The light in his room has gone a bit murky, and the lights in the hallway are turned on. Lukas and he are still wrapped up in each other, the bed warm now from their combined body heat.

"I didn't mean to wake you up," Helen says, her voice quiet. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," Philip croaks, his voice coming out all raspy and wrong.

"Lukas texted us and let us know you're sick."

"Lukas is a traitor," Philip slurs and lets his head drop back down. 

Helen smiles, amused and patient. "I guess he figured you wouldn't tell us," she says and Philip grimaces, actually feeling a little bad because it's probably true. "We're making some food. Think you can eat?"

The thought of food makes Philip's stomach turn and he doesn't even have to think about it before he shakes his head, pressing his lips together just in case.

"That bad, huh? Do you need a doctor, Philip?" Helen takes a few steps into the room and reaches for Philip's forehead, briefly touching it. 

"No. Just sleep," Philip says. 

Helen sighs, but nods. "Okay. But if it gets worse or you get a fever, you're going to have to see someone," she says. "And maybe Lukas should go home, before he gets sick, too."

Philip unconsciously tightens his arm around Lukas' waist, like he can make him stay by just holding on. That feeling from before, the ache and irrational need for Lukas to be close, comes crashing back.

"Please? It's Friday... and I'm _sick_ ," he says. It comes out sounding joking, light, like a kid pleading for more candy, but part of Philip actually is completely serious. He's pretty sure he'd be willing to _beg_ Helen to let Lukas stay.

Helen hesitates for a moment, but then she nods. "Fine," she agrees. "I'll tell Gabe to make enough food for four. You guys can eat later, if you feel a little better."

"Thanks."

Helen smiles. "Get some more rest," she says. "And call if you need anything."

"Will do," Philip promises.

Helen is almost out the door again when Philip calls out her name. He waits until she turns back around, looks at him expectantly. "Thank you," he says, and Helen smiles, pleased and kind of like she wants to tell Philip he's being an idiot all at once. She softly closes the door behind her, and Philip pulls the comforter higher around his shoulder, shuffling deeper into Lukas' arms, which tighten around him immediately.

"You awake?"

"Kinda," Lukas replies, his voice sleepy.

"Were you faking being asleep?" Philip asks, snorting. 

"You were calling me a traitor and Helen wanted me to leave. It seemed safer that way," Lukas points out. He scoots them around so they're on their sides, facing each other, and being jostled doesn't exactly feel good, but Philip lets him do it anyway. He likes being able to see Lukas' face and the way their legs end up tangled, Lukas' hand settling low on his back.

"I'm glad you can stay," Philip admits softly. "Even if Helen is probably right, because I could get you sick."

"It'd probably be too late anyway," Lukas points out and drops a quick kiss onto Philip's lips. "How are you feeling?"

"Less horrible," Philip says. "Don't think I'll be up for much this weekend though."

"Awww, there go all my exciting plans."

Philip huffs. "Shut up," he mutters. "We could have taken the bike out, shot some new videos."

"We can do that next week," Lukas says. Philip frowns at that, and he plucks at Lukas' shirt, twisting the soft material between his fingers. Just under his hand, there's the scar from where the bullet went into Lukas' body. They haven't spent a weekend apart since, and rarely any afternoon on school days either. It took Lukas a little while to do jumps again and Philip has been there for every single one of them, filming a few but not nearly all of them. 

"You don't have to stay with me, you know?" he says, eyes fixed on his fingers on Lukas' chest.

"Don't be an idiot."

Philip looks up. "I'm probably just gonna sleep a lot," he says. "You could hang out with your friends. Call Rose... you guys have been doing better."

"Or I could stay here with you, sleep, too. Maybe you'll be up for some other stuff, too."

"Yeah? Like what?"

Lukas grins and leans in, catching Philip's mouth with his. The kiss is soft, slow, lips moving together and Philip can't help but melt into it. Lukas' hand on his back pulls him in closer against him, bodies flush together and tangled.

"You're really gonna get sick now," Philip mumbles against Lukas' mouth, but he curls his hand in Lukas' shirt, holds him tight.

Lukas hums, licks over Philip's lips, all languid and teasing, and draws back. "You'll take care of me if I do."

"Yeah," Philip says, because it's true. He will. Of course, he will. 

Lukas smiles and pulls the comforter higher, up to their chins. "And you know what? If it means getting to spend the weekend in bed with you, it'll kinda be worth it."

"You know, we could do that without either of us being sick," Philip points out, grinning. He bumps his nose against Lukas' and dips down, kissing his chin. He's starting to feel drowsy again, like being awake for less than half an hour has sucked up all his energy.

"Next weekend," Lukas says. "This weekend is all about making you feel better."

"Okay," Philip mumbles and smiles. He ducks down, nuzzling his face back into the crook of Lukas' neck. Back to the familiar scent, that warm, safe place that always makes Philip feel better, feel loved.

Maybe, he thinks, he _likes_ being cracked open like this, for Lukas. He likes letting Lukas see all the broken pieces of him, because he knows he can trust Lukas to fix him, better than any drug or doctor ever could.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm currently trying to come up with more ideas for Philip/Lukas fics. If you have any prompts (that aren't AU) that you'd like me to write, feel free to contact me – here, on [twitter](https://twitter.com/whispered_story), [tumblr](http://whispered-story.tumblr.com/) or [livejournal](kintay.livejournal.com/).


End file.
